


you're so golden

by mozartspiano



Category: Men's Hockey RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Claw Foot Tub Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:42:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23469673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mozartspiano/pseuds/mozartspiano
Summary: everyone's acting like william having a very passionate weekend of intimacy and sexual intercourse with harry styles in the french countryside and then harry writing a song about it and putting it on his number one album is a big deal which it categorically isn't.
Relationships: William Nylander/Harry Styles
Comments: 22
Kudos: 78





	you're so golden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theundiagnosable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theundiagnosable/gifts).

> quarantine day 20 got me like.

everyone's acting like william having a very passionate weekend of intimacy and sexual intercourse with harry styles in the french countryside and then harry writing a song about it and putting it on his number one album is a big deal which it categorically isn't.

william is very beautiful. he is european and has abs. people are always having weekends of passion with him and writing stuff about how beautiful and european he is. william has an entire shoebox under his bed full of poetry and postcards and mixtapes ex-lovers have sent him. like, harry isn't _special_.

"it's a good song."

"obviously it's a good song, fred, i'm a fucking great muse."

william is enigmatic. if he had a nickel for every time he spaced out in bed thinking about a sandwich while a lover asked what was on in his mind and called him divine he'd be like even more rich than he already is. william often sits on rooftops with cups of coffee and looks at the sunset. william frequents steps outside museums just so the people he sleeps with can take polaroids of him. he knows his angles. he has been using under eye cream since he was thirteen. harry styles should be so fucking lucky.

"you do have a nice complexion willy, i've always thought that."

"thank you but that isn't the point, mitch."

the point is that william is extremely cool and sexy and excellent and he's doing just fine. but like, and he's not complaining, but like it's maybe like a little bit rude that harry hasn't even called? and it's like, william doesn't need a phone call, obviously, except that it's a courtesy thing. everyone knows that if you write a song about someone you should call them, that's like - a thing. and he gets that harry's busy eating clam jizz with kendall jenner on late night or whatever, but like. it doesn't take a lot to pick up the phone and call someone.

"i thought you were over him, though."

"i am, kappy, thanks."

william is totally fine and he doesn't even care anyways.

so of course harry shows up at his condo one night during a snowstorm. the snow is going past william's condo windows sideways from his spot soaking in his claw foot tub when the doorbell goes. william puts down his glass of red wine to answer it.

"hey," harry says on the other side of the doorway, all gigantic eyes and high waisted mustard yellow corduroy pants. he looks hot and weird. it does not affect william at all.

"what are you doing here?" william asks, crossing his arms and looking off in the distance, nose held high, because it's one of his best features. he is wearing a silk robe and his skin smells like peaches and feels like rose petals from his bath.

"i was in town."

"i don't know why you think i would be interested in you being in town," william says.

he looks at harry's chin. there is a zit on harry's chin. during their weekend sex romp william sat on harry's chest and squeezed three black heads out of his chin. it sounds gross but it was surprisingly sexy and harry got like really into it and said some weird shit about the nature of the universe and how they were in that moment together for a reason while fucking willy's mouth.

"i wrote a song about you," harry says, unblinking like he is.

"obviously."

"i was just like, curious. to see how you're doing."

"i'm thriving," william says. his robe has little fluffy tassels so he picks at one of them with his fingers. he has nice fingers. harry knows this. harry told him this, at their french cottage, and then also he dm-ed it to willy a month ago at 4am and never mentioned it again. "i have a very fulfilling life, harry."

"i know that."

"well. good."

harry steps, gingerly, over the threshold. he is now in william's bubble. william has one eighth of an inch on harry and he straightens his shoulders so its a really noticeable eighth.

"did you like it? the song?"

william shrugs one shoulder. his robe slips a little down, intentionally, _obviously_, and harry's eyes flicker to his exposed skin. it's the shoulder with william's one perfect freckle, _obviously_, the one that a greek girl on vacation wrote a series of haikus about when william was seventeen. "the chorus was catchy."

harry inches a little closer. the toe of his gucci sneakers almost touch the toe of william's gucci slippers. from this close, harry's genetically excellent cheekbones look good in the dramatic lighting of william's apartment. william turns his chin slightly as to better extenuate his even more genetically excellent cheekbones.

"but i wasn't scared."

harry looks away from william's shoulder skin. "pardon?"

"in the song," william says, cavalier. "you say that i'm scared. because hearts get broken. but i wasn't scared."

"oh." harry looks like he's going to say something else but then closes his mouth. "well. up for interpretation."

"no," william says. "this one isn't. i wasn't scared. you make it sound like i was a vulnerable kitten."

"music is about reimagining personal experiences in creative ways-"

"i would just prefer that you call, next time," william says. "so i can set you straight."

harry has called him exactly four times since the weekend sex romp. the first was a week after, where he recited to william a poem by a dead french poet over the phone and then they jerked off together. second was in late october, while harry was walking his friend's dog through central park, and he told william that his mother always makes dutch babies for breakfast on his birthday and then hung up. the third call william missed, because he requires frequent naps to be both an athlete and this beautiful. harry left a voicemail of him breathing and waves crashing into the beach. and finally, was two weeks before. harry called william at seven forty-five in the morning to ask william what his favourite fruit was. william told him. then, he hung up.

"i just feel," william continues, airily, "that it would be a much better song if you sang to everyone about how sexy and confident i am."

harry blinks and then grins, wide. his hand reaches out and plays with one of the tassels on william's robe. he's got a lazy way of doing most things, his finger twisted around william's tassel, thumb playing with the little fluffy bit at the end.

"i mean yeah," harry says. he's doing that thing that he did a lot during the aforementioned weekend sex romp, this slow smile while watching william's mouth. "you are sexy."

"obviously."

harry puts his hand on william's exposed shoulder. william breathes in through his nose very slowly. harry slides his hand down william's arm. william lets out the air in his lungs in a big puff and thinks about their french cottage. there was a fireplace in the corner and they fucked in front of it and harry had to rub cream over william's rug burns.

"are you cold in that?" he asks, all husky.

william's dick, which had been asleep since his pre nap jerk off earlier this afternoon, yawns awake. "a little. i'm a little cold. in this. i guess."

"oh no," harry says. "we better. warm you up."

"i have a tub," william says. in for a penny in for a - "it's full with warm water. and rose petals."

"i love rose petals," harry says. his mouth is very close to william's mouth. "and water."

"i know this."

"william."

harry has very big sexy nostrils. william looks at them for a minute and thinks about the song and thinks about his empty voicemail and thinks about how hot he looks naked and smiles.

"harry," he says and harry's gathering him up.

william is a patient man and so he waits. he waits while harry sucks on every one of his fingertips. he waits while leading harry backwards into his bedroom and then into his ensuite. he waits while harry pulls out an altoids tin he has in his pocket filled with a single match and lights a bunch of tea candles around the room to set the mood. he waits while harry strips down to only a green cotton short sleeved button down shirt, dick out, and submerges into the water.

"comfy?" william says, sitting on the edge of his claw foot tub. he is still waiting.

"could be comfier."

william does not take his robe off. it looks like wings behind him when he fits himself into harry's lap. he puts his arms around harry's neck and harry is looking like he's about to say something very weird and extremely sexy.

"i still remember how mangos tasted in your mouth from our cottage on the coast of france," he says. william's boner grows just a little bit more. "we should have mangos after this."

"they're not in season."

"i don't care."

william closes his eyes. he takes a deep breath. he reminds himself of the four phone calls he has received since august and how his tummy got all twisted the first time he listened to harry's album and the way harry looked at him in the sunset, then, on their french patio, all flushed from fucking and beautiful and dazed, like william was someone to look at for longer than it takes to snap a polaroid on the steps of the _nationalmuseum_.

"why didn't you call me?" william asks, opening his eyes.

harry blinks. "is this really the best -"

william reaches behind himself where harry's hands are being reacquainted with his skin. he grabs harry's wrists with his fingers and holds them against the cold porcelain of the tub. harry blinks again and his eye is more pupil than before.

he's a simple boy really. he likes toast for breakfast and back massages after naps and when william holds his wrists to the bed while they bone the fuck down.

"why didn't you call?" william asks again, softer this time, all close to harry's ear. "it's impolite, you know. to not call someone when you tell the whole world about how beautiful and golden they are."

"william-"

"tell me and we can uber eats some mangos," william says. he lets his eyelashes brush against the bend of harry's ear and harry shivers. "maybe a couple burgers actually, i'm pretty hungry."

"i want to lick ketchup out of your belly button," harry whispers.

"hm."

"baby please-"

"tell me why."

at the cottage they got into a routine fairly quickly, the way harry would sit up at the counter with his phone while william cut up fruit next to him. their kitchen had blue walls like well washed sea shells and it made harry look like an old movie star, eyelashes dark as he picked more songs william had never heard of. he made them listen to so many weird songs and bad songs and crass songs and fun songs. songs to dance to and kiss to and fuck to and eat to, songs that made william want to laugh and others that made him want to get very small.

harry's eyes look like that now, downcast, somewhere else while he's right next to william.

"i guess i was scared," he says.

william looks down as well. he can feel harry's eyes on him but he keeps his gaze downward because he looks particularly fetching when his eyelashes make little shadows on his cheeks and because he likes looking at the water bending the moth over harry's stomach.

"i guess i can understand that," william says. "i am pretty special."

"you are."

"it was a good weekend." he looks up, lets harry's weird light eyes meet his own weird light eyes.

harry tugs on william's grip. his hands are cold when they wrap around william's throat. he is looking at william like he did the morning on the beach before they went to the airport, this quiet thing that made william's skin prickle more than the rug burn.

"i want to make love to you."

"yes," william says, "yes of course you do."

"i need my phone though," harry says. he lets go of william's neck to try and reach the heap of his pants on the floor. "it's too quiet in here."

"wait i can -"

harry holds his hips as william extends an arm. he holds harry's phone over the edge of the tub.

"i have a few that would work," harry says, watching william scroll through his spotify playlists, "i have a playlist i made in december when i was jerking off while thinking about that time we fucked on the beach and i got a sunburn on my dick."

"that's sexy, let's listen to that one."

"well i - no it won't do. there's too many songs off pet sounds on there and that's not the fucking vibe, i can't -" harry makes grabby hands. william passes the phone over. he lets himself turn into a prune, watching harry cultivate a playlist for them to raw to. his wet robe is feeling a little less sexy around him and a little more like wet itchy fabric. william looks at his phone, on the other side of the bathroom with his red wine, and wonders what kappy's up to.

"okay," harry says, an eternity later. from his phone speakers comes a funky synth and a weird voice. he drops it over the side of the claw foot tub and puts his hands on william's ass. "now where were we."

"wait," william says. he reaches down to pick up harry's phone again. "were you serious about the mango thing? and the ketchup thing?"

harry blinks. "yeah. why would i joke about that."

"we might as well order food now," william says, squinting to see the names of all of harrys app folders. "where do you hide uber eats?"

"i don't have uber eats."

"what?"

"i like to go out," harry says. "and live in the moment. and support local businesses."

"give me your face," william says, moving the phone around, "the app store won't let me download it without your permission."

it's still snowing outside. the music is maybe not william's taste but it's okay. the candles are making flickered shapes on the walls. harry's hands are slow when they draw william forward so he can suck circles into william's clavicle. his dick is getting very friendly with william's dick.

"i want to consume you," harry says when he gets himself inside of william's body.

"cool," william says, out of breath, "fuck me first though, okay?"

"sure thing," harry says because he's an agreeable person.

harry's hair is still wet when they migrate to the couch, loose limbed, and it makes the fabric go dark around him like a halo. mango tastes bad with burgers but harry's tongue dipping into william's bellybutton makes him laugh so that his eyes prickle with tears.

**Author's Note:**

> [harry's claw foot tub sex playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6I5jZ8NNpqXE7UyV50kS2q)   
[im here](https://statsmcbitch.tumblr.com/)


End file.
